After a few nights back in Nairobi and a re-immersion into tent living, we headed up to visit Liz and Richard's home in Nanyuki. About a 3 hour drive North of Nairobi, Nanyuki is a small town located right on the equator, in the shadow of Mt. Kenya.
All that could swore there was a mountain just out the window, but low cloud prevented me from seeing it for the first 3 days of my visit. Eventually, the weather cleared, and I was able to set eye on what is indeed a very special mountain. My recent travels have revealed more than my fair share of mountains, from the Laurentians to the Great Smokies to those in West Texas, and the Rockies. Mt. Kenya is unique in that its peak rests easily on a giant mound of rock. Watching how it interacts with passing weather systems and how it changes in the light as the sun crosses the sky is better than any television show out there (except for The Wire, Deadwood, or Mad Men).
Liz and Richard's recently built home has bedrooms (4, one for me with stone walls, windows of glass and doors of wood), flush toilets plumbed into floors, and showers, GLORIOUS SHOWERS!!!! In other words, the harsh days of tent living have been put behind me (even if only temporarily). To be honest, the tent is lovely, and I sleep happily whilst in it. The house borders National forest and it is about 20 minutes from Nanyuki town, and 15 minutes from the airstrip - a spot for decent coffee and a hub of activity for both those on safari and locals alike.
Traveling from their home to Nanyuki town proper means crossing the equator, marked by a simple sign. It is a rather underwhelming event and can be done 3 or 4 times a day with little or no effort and none of the pomp or circumstance one might associate with such a seemingly important geographic line.
After an easy-living week of relaxation and family time with Liz and Willow, I was handed off to Sue who took me further North into Laikipia for lunch with her friends. We drove onto an area of massive ranches and land now being used for private homesteads and conservation. After lunch, we walked, and spotted zebra, antelope, various and vibrantly coloured birds, and elephants. But years of experience and prudent bush walking forced us to turn away from the narrow valley that the elephants crossed and go to higher ground to continue our trek. More zebra and antelope were spotted as we made our way back.
Our next stop was to visit yet more friends for dinner (en route, we spotted baboons and more antelope) and to spend the night on their wheat farm before heading back to tent life on the outskirts of Nairobi.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
It happened just like this....
The line rose slowly and steadily and then the surface of the ocean bulged ahead of the boat and the fish came out. He came out unendingly and water poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun the stripes on his sides showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the water and then re-entered it, smoothly, like a diver and the old man saw the great scythe-blade of his tail go under and the line commenced to race out.
- Earnest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea.
- Earnest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Fusco 1, Mother Nature 0 or My Hemingway Moment
After days of easy living, meals composed of super fresh and tasty seafood, beach walks, swimming for hours in the pool, and a re-introduction to the luxury of proper showers and flush toilets, Richard suggested we charter a boat and go fishing for the day on the Indian Ocean. As many of you know, my love for the outdoors knows no bounds and fishing has been a lifelong hobby with well over 7 hours (if you include time spent watching "The Deadliest Catch") of my life dedicated to its pursuit.
So, there we were, up at the crack of dawn and powering out to sea with Callum, our captain and 2 crew. If this is fishing, I'm in. Rich, his dog Foxy, and I were able to lounge comfortably as Callum steered us up the coast and out past the reef and into a rolling Indian Ocean. The veteran sea-goers were initially concerned that I might fall to sea sickness, but fortunately for all, I adapted to life on the rolling sea much like a super intelligent dolphin with a strong digestive tract and no inner ear issues.
Our steadfast crew went to work putting lures on lines and almost immediately started catching 12-18" long live bait fish and putting them out on their lines and moments later, reels started spinning as these bait fish were hit. Presumably much larger fish were on the hunt and our little bait fish had a rough go of it as a number of them were cut in half by hits.
This process of catching live bait and sending it out continued as did a number of false alarm hits until late morning when the the reels let out a high-pitched whirl and the crew got very excited. They shouted for me to take the rod and reel and along with Richard and Callum coached me through a 30 minute fight with nature. During the fight, the marlin jumped many times as he didn't seem to like the idea of joining us on board.
Towards the end of the fight, my arms started to feel like overcooked asparagus but I refused to yield to the mighty fish the size of my good friend KA. The battle continued until the mighty blue marlin learned the name Fusco and ultimately surrendered like a French soldier.
Unfortunately, the mighty sea beast had swallowed the hook and releasing it was not an option. After some photos, it was strapped to the back of the boat - the stern for all you nauticalistas out there - for transport.
Richard, Callum, and the crew all congratulated me on my haul and indicated that I was most fortunate as some have fished for years and never landed one. Our good luck continued as Rich was able to land two yellow fin tuna of about 30 kgs each and I was fortunate to fight and successfully land another tuna of similar size. My arms were finished by the end of that fight.
As the afternoon rolled along, the fishing action died down enough to look around and take in the wonders of the Indian Ocean. We saw schools of dolphins, sailfish, and various sea birds. The reels whirled from time to time, but fish were lost and nothing compared to our earlier triumphs.
We headed for the safe moorage in front of the Ocean Sports Resort and unloaded our catch and ourselves to a skip to get us ashore. There, they gathered to see our haul. They, in this case, meant local fish buyers and punters at the resort's bar. Coming home to such an audience with a big catch was a huge ego stroke, but fortunately for me, we picked the right bar to land at as tradition at another one dictates that the catcher of a marlin must buy the drinks for the entire bar.
I must admit that my fishing adventure was a complete rush and made me reconsider the merits of the pursuit, but the skeptic in me suspects that my success was all somehow an elaborate rouse set up by the fishing establishment to get me to stop verbally disparaging them.
So, there we were, up at the crack of dawn and powering out to sea with Callum, our captain and 2 crew. If this is fishing, I'm in. Rich, his dog Foxy, and I were able to lounge comfortably as Callum steered us up the coast and out past the reef and into a rolling Indian Ocean. The veteran sea-goers were initially concerned that I might fall to sea sickness, but fortunately for all, I adapted to life on the rolling sea much like a super intelligent dolphin with a strong digestive tract and no inner ear issues.
Our steadfast crew went to work putting lures on lines and almost immediately started catching 12-18" long live bait fish and putting them out on their lines and moments later, reels started spinning as these bait fish were hit. Presumably much larger fish were on the hunt and our little bait fish had a rough go of it as a number of them were cut in half by hits.
This process of catching live bait and sending it out continued as did a number of false alarm hits until late morning when the the reels let out a high-pitched whirl and the crew got very excited. They shouted for me to take the rod and reel and along with Richard and Callum coached me through a 30 minute fight with nature. During the fight, the marlin jumped many times as he didn't seem to like the idea of joining us on board.
Towards the end of the fight, my arms started to feel like overcooked asparagus but I refused to yield to the mighty fish the size of my good friend KA. The battle continued until the mighty blue marlin learned the name Fusco and ultimately surrendered like a French soldier.
Unfortunately, the mighty sea beast had swallowed the hook and releasing it was not an option. After some photos, it was strapped to the back of the boat - the stern for all you nauticalistas out there - for transport.
Richard, Callum, and the crew all congratulated me on my haul and indicated that I was most fortunate as some have fished for years and never landed one. Our good luck continued as Rich was able to land two yellow fin tuna of about 30 kgs each and I was fortunate to fight and successfully land another tuna of similar size. My arms were finished by the end of that fight.
As the afternoon rolled along, the fishing action died down enough to look around and take in the wonders of the Indian Ocean. We saw schools of dolphins, sailfish, and various sea birds. The reels whirled from time to time, but fish were lost and nothing compared to our earlier triumphs.
We headed for the safe moorage in front of the Ocean Sports Resort and unloaded our catch and ourselves to a skip to get us ashore. There, they gathered to see our haul. They, in this case, meant local fish buyers and punters at the resort's bar. Coming home to such an audience with a big catch was a huge ego stroke, but fortunately for me, we picked the right bar to land at as tradition at another one dictates that the catcher of a marlin must buy the drinks for the entire bar.
I must admit that my fishing adventure was a complete rush and made me reconsider the merits of the pursuit, but the skeptic in me suspects that my success was all somehow an elaborate rouse set up by the fishing establishment to get me to stop verbally disparaging them.
Monday, July 19, 2010
In And Around Watamu - A Visit to Arabuko Sokoke Forest
Butterfly hunting. There. I have now uttered the words. JCR, this post is for you.
Liz's boyfriend Richard insisted we go to the Sokoke Forest on a mini day safari as it was a quick drive from our rented vacation home. So we loaded up the car with my wild 4 1/2 nephew Willow and my even wilder sister Sue, the butterfly net, the traps and the rotten banana mush that would be used as bait.
Richard might as well be the Butterfly Whisperer as he tracked butterfly from the hood of the truck as we made our way along the wooded trail and deeper into the forest. We took turns driving slowly and exploring on foot. At one point, I was away from the group on foot and heard a very deep bass growl come from the bush about 30 yards away. I quickly decided that it was best to make my way back to the group and minutes later we found evidence of elephant in the area.
Richard set his traps (netted cylinders that safely capture the butterflies) with rotten banana mush as we went deeper and deeper into the forest. He even stumbled upon and dismantled a basic snare trap left near the entrance to the den of a small unsuspecting rodent. He's quite the naturalist (wait, isn't that what they call nudists?) and is very protective of his animal friends.
Willow, Sue, and Rich were all enjoying nature and all its wonders, while my adjustment - to the sounds, sights, and smells of jungle life - continued with no way out. Trapped in the forest, with nature lovers, meant embracing all that was on offer. This is the key difference between nature loving Kenyan Fusco and nature adverse Southern Ontario Fusco. When faced with no option I'll adapt.
As we ventured deeper and deeper into the Sokoke, we came across a gentleman with a slingshot hunting monkeys. To what level of success, I don't know, but when challenged to hit a certain branch at about 40 yards, he was a deadly shot.
All in all, a nice day in the jungle was had by all. But don't take this as a change in my position on butterflies, those that love them, and the truth about the evil that they do.
Liz's boyfriend Richard insisted we go to the Sokoke Forest on a mini day safari as it was a quick drive from our rented vacation home. So we loaded up the car with my wild 4 1/2 nephew Willow and my even wilder sister Sue, the butterfly net, the traps and the rotten banana mush that would be used as bait.
Richard might as well be the Butterfly Whisperer as he tracked butterfly from the hood of the truck as we made our way along the wooded trail and deeper into the forest. We took turns driving slowly and exploring on foot. At one point, I was away from the group on foot and heard a very deep bass growl come from the bush about 30 yards away. I quickly decided that it was best to make my way back to the group and minutes later we found evidence of elephant in the area.
Richard set his traps (netted cylinders that safely capture the butterflies) with rotten banana mush as we went deeper and deeper into the forest. He even stumbled upon and dismantled a basic snare trap left near the entrance to the den of a small unsuspecting rodent. He's quite the naturalist (wait, isn't that what they call nudists?) and is very protective of his animal friends.
Willow, Sue, and Rich were all enjoying nature and all its wonders, while my adjustment - to the sounds, sights, and smells of jungle life - continued with no way out. Trapped in the forest, with nature lovers, meant embracing all that was on offer. This is the key difference between nature loving Kenyan Fusco and nature adverse Southern Ontario Fusco. When faced with no option I'll adapt.
As we ventured deeper and deeper into the Sokoke, we came across a gentleman with a slingshot hunting monkeys. To what level of success, I don't know, but when challenged to hit a certain branch at about 40 yards, he was a deadly shot.
All in all, a nice day in the jungle was had by all. But don't take this as a change in my position on butterflies, those that love them, and the truth about the evil that they do.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Kenyan Road Trip - Nairobi to Watamu
After a few days of jet lag recovery, tent-living adjustment, introductions to friends, and trying to get my bearings, it was agreed that the Kenyan branch of the Fusco family tree would stage the largest family vacation since 1983 in Acapulco, Mexico. Discussions between Sue, Liz, and Kaila concluded with a decision that a visit to the small coastal town of Watamu was in order.
As if 60 days and nearly 15,000 miles of driving around North America weren't enough, getting to Watamu would involve a road trip like no other. We started out at a very dark and early 5:30 AM, collected Kaila and headed Southeast from Nairobi, along the Mombassa road. As the morning light began to expose the landscape, we noticed the fog had yet to burn off, wrapping the lowlands like a blanket.
Our route took us past the Chuylu Hills where, in the distance, we were able to catch a glimpse of Mt. Kilamanjaro's snow capped peak. Along the way, we also saw zebra by the roadside, camels roaming the flats, and even elephant at the edge of Tsavo East National Park! It would appear as though my luck is good as it is very rare to spot elephant this close to the road.
Along the way, Sue elected to impart her current tree studies on Kaila and me. Fortunately for us both, we generally ignored her random outbursts of latin and frantic pointing out the truck window. One tree that did stand out was the Baobab, as local lore has it that God planted them upside down:
After about 6 hrs on the fairly good (all things relative) Mombassa Road, we turned off onto a rutted rust red clay road that would represent both a shortcut and the off-road trial stage of our trip. This would be no place for the Audi TT. But Sue's Land Cruiser handled it with ease despite her best efforts to run us and others off the goat trail generously referred to as a road. After nearly 2 hours of bumpy turns, climbs, and dips we found pavement once again for the final run into Watamu and the warm welcome of our rented home on the Indian Ocean coast.
As if 60 days and nearly 15,000 miles of driving around North America weren't enough, getting to Watamu would involve a road trip like no other. We started out at a very dark and early 5:30 AM, collected Kaila and headed Southeast from Nairobi, along the Mombassa road. As the morning light began to expose the landscape, we noticed the fog had yet to burn off, wrapping the lowlands like a blanket.
Our route took us past the Chuylu Hills where, in the distance, we were able to catch a glimpse of Mt. Kilamanjaro's snow capped peak. Along the way, we also saw zebra by the roadside, camels roaming the flats, and even elephant at the edge of Tsavo East National Park! It would appear as though my luck is good as it is very rare to spot elephant this close to the road.
Along the way, Sue elected to impart her current tree studies on Kaila and me. Fortunately for us both, we generally ignored her random outbursts of latin and frantic pointing out the truck window. One tree that did stand out was the Baobab, as local lore has it that God planted them upside down:
After about 6 hrs on the fairly good (all things relative) Mombassa Road, we turned off onto a rutted rust red clay road that would represent both a shortcut and the off-road trial stage of our trip. This would be no place for the Audi TT. But Sue's Land Cruiser handled it with ease despite her best efforts to run us and others off the goat trail generously referred to as a road. After nearly 2 hours of bumpy turns, climbs, and dips we found pavement once again for the final run into Watamu and the warm welcome of our rented home on the Indian Ocean coast.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
In and Around Nairobi - The Giraffe Edition
After overcoming the stress associated with the murderous screaming that woke me not once but three times in my fist night in Africa, I started to venture out with my sister Sue and niece Kaila. Our early trips took us to such exotic locales as the local supermarket, cafe, Sue's workshop, Kaila's house and workplace, Haru Sushi restaurant, and the Talisman bar. All the while, I've been introduced to those whom I had only known by name or story to this point. So nice to finally put faces to names.
Our first real adventure involved a trip to the Nairobi Giraffe Centre - just minutes from Kaila's house. Fork over a bit of cash and you can feed a giraffe. So that's what we did:
My niece Kaila and her boyfriend Shawn and a giraffe:
The giraffes also have warthogs to keep them company:
While friendly, none of the African animals I've encountered in my journey to this point are nearly as talkative or as personable as the animated films would have you believe.
Our first real adventure involved a trip to the Nairobi Giraffe Centre - just minutes from Kaila's house. Fork over a bit of cash and you can feed a giraffe. So that's what we did:
My niece Kaila and her boyfriend Shawn and a giraffe:
The giraffes also have warthogs to keep them company:
While friendly, none of the African animals I've encountered in my journey to this point are nearly as talkative or as personable as the animated films would have you believe.
Sue's Barn, The Tent, Awakened By Screams
My arrival at my sister Sue's place allowed me to finally visualize the barn that she calls home. She has converted it into a comfy place to lay her head, entertain, work, cook, and live. But it is still a barn and lacks many of the comforts that my life in Toronto would have considered, um, basic.
Her toilet is lovingly referred to as the "long drop" and is a convenient 25 paces from the barn.
Despite the impact of barn life and being informed that I will be staying in a tent (more on that later), I was simply too shattered to process the information and needed to sleep. I went to bed and may have been asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Hours later, and still delirious from my trip, I woke suddenly to what I thought were the screams of infants being murdered by a crazed, axe-wielding psychopath. I bolted upright in my bed and heard yet more screaming. As quickly as it had started it ended. I heard no commotion, nor sirens, nor voices and simply sat there in bed confused. I waited and waited until I could take the silence no more and eased myself back to sleep. A short while later, I awoke to more screaming. The pattern repeated as silence replaced the screaming and no further commotion could be heard. I again drifted back to sleep. Just then, it all happened again - the screaming and nothing else. I concluded that this must simply be the sounds of Africa and went back to sleep.
Later that morning I awoke refreshed but confused. I asked Mahala, Sue's housekeeper, about the noise and she happily pointed to a small, gray furry animal in the tree between Sue's barn and my tent. This is a Tree Hyrax and was completely responsible for the sounds I heard:
When I asked Sue about it, she simply didn't think it was worth mentioning to me. Let's just say that my first night in Nairobi was quite a bit different from almost any other night in my life, let alone any night in Toronto.
Here's a shot of the luxury accommodation that is my tent. As tents go, it is jolly nice. But it is still a tent.
Her toilet is lovingly referred to as the "long drop" and is a convenient 25 paces from the barn.
Despite the impact of barn life and being informed that I will be staying in a tent (more on that later), I was simply too shattered to process the information and needed to sleep. I went to bed and may have been asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Hours later, and still delirious from my trip, I woke suddenly to what I thought were the screams of infants being murdered by a crazed, axe-wielding psychopath. I bolted upright in my bed and heard yet more screaming. As quickly as it had started it ended. I heard no commotion, nor sirens, nor voices and simply sat there in bed confused. I waited and waited until I could take the silence no more and eased myself back to sleep. A short while later, I awoke to more screaming. The pattern repeated as silence replaced the screaming and no further commotion could be heard. I again drifted back to sleep. Just then, it all happened again - the screaming and nothing else. I concluded that this must simply be the sounds of Africa and went back to sleep.
Later that morning I awoke refreshed but confused. I asked Mahala, Sue's housekeeper, about the noise and she happily pointed to a small, gray furry animal in the tree between Sue's barn and my tent. This is a Tree Hyrax and was completely responsible for the sounds I heard:
When I asked Sue about it, she simply didn't think it was worth mentioning to me. Let's just say that my first night in Nairobi was quite a bit different from almost any other night in my life, let alone any night in Toronto.
Here's a shot of the luxury accommodation that is my tent. As tents go, it is jolly nice. But it is still a tent.
Amsterdam to Nairobi - My Pampered Sky Life
In what could possibly be the greatest decision of my life, I upgraded to business class for the 2nd leg of my trip to Nairobi. This allowed me access to KLM's Crown Lounge in Schiphol airport in Amsterdam. This meant a quiet escape from great masses of backpackers, tourists, and value travelers that sprawl across 4 or 5 seats in lounges scattered about the airport. After a warm welcome from a veteran flight attendant in a baby blue uniform, I found a comfortable chair, an open bar, plenty of snacks, and spotty wi-fi. Sadly, my body clock was so confused from the bright sunshine and lack of sleep, that the thought of drinking heavily with strangers was highly unappealing. After a few emails and a few hours, I headed down to the assigned gate and found yet another 747 waiting. This one was named simply "Nairobi". Again, it was comforting, as though the plane knew where it was going.
The boarding chaos at Toronto was nothing like the disaster that was boarding at Amsterdam. An announcement was made for business class to board and there was an orderly gathering at the gate. Another announcement was made a few minutes later indicating that the first was made in error and that no boarding was taking place. This seemed to confuse the crowd and a surge toward the gate occurred. It ended with yet another call to board that had flight attendants at the gate asking those in and caught up in the surge whether or not they had a business class ticket. Those that did were allowed to pass and those that did not were looked upon with disdain and cast aside.
Once safely ensconced in the the upper level of the 747 with my business class peers, champagne was offered and taken and taken and, uh, taken. Shortly after, we took to the air and when offered dining options, I felt the best course of action was to nap. Upon waking a few hours later, my friendly and caring flight attendant informed me that they had kept each of the entree choices warm for me until I was ready to dine. The rest of the flight was uneventful (as they all should be), with the time filled by occasional glances out the window, some light reading, and attempts at watching movies I had no interest in.
8+ hours of flying later, the large aluminum tube with wings began its descent into Nairobi and I had arrived on the African continent. I was greeted at the gate by a handler with my name on a sign (about time!!!) and whisked through immigration, baggage claim and customs to the welcoming arms of my sister Sue and niece Kaila. They jumped into my arms and I carried them both through the airport much to the amusement of those gathered at the arrivals concourse. The jet lag, lack of sleep, high blood-alcohol level, and darkness that had set in made for a surreal and distant feeling despite the recognizable faces. After a short drive through the dark streets of outer Nairobi, we arrived at Sue's place and a time to sleep and recover.
The boarding chaos at Toronto was nothing like the disaster that was boarding at Amsterdam. An announcement was made for business class to board and there was an orderly gathering at the gate. Another announcement was made a few minutes later indicating that the first was made in error and that no boarding was taking place. This seemed to confuse the crowd and a surge toward the gate occurred. It ended with yet another call to board that had flight attendants at the gate asking those in and caught up in the surge whether or not they had a business class ticket. Those that did were allowed to pass and those that did not were looked upon with disdain and cast aside.
Once safely ensconced in the the upper level of the 747 with my business class peers, champagne was offered and taken and taken and, uh, taken. Shortly after, we took to the air and when offered dining options, I felt the best course of action was to nap. Upon waking a few hours later, my friendly and caring flight attendant informed me that they had kept each of the entree choices warm for me until I was ready to dine. The rest of the flight was uneventful (as they all should be), with the time filled by occasional glances out the window, some light reading, and attempts at watching movies I had no interest in.
8+ hours of flying later, the large aluminum tube with wings began its descent into Nairobi and I had arrived on the African continent. I was greeted at the gate by a handler with my name on a sign (about time!!!) and whisked through immigration, baggage claim and customs to the welcoming arms of my sister Sue and niece Kaila. They jumped into my arms and I carried them both through the airport much to the amusement of those gathered at the arrivals concourse. The jet lag, lack of sleep, high blood-alcohol level, and darkness that had set in made for a surreal and distant feeling despite the recognizable faces. After a short drive through the dark streets of outer Nairobi, we arrived at Sue's place and a time to sleep and recover.
Toronto to Amsterdam or Traveling With The Dutch
I have stopped counting days and miles as both categories have accelerated and seem less applicable to the story these days. After being dropped off by my inn-keeper, driver and life-long friend, I ran the check-in and security gauntlets at Pearson airport in Toronto before waiting patiently to board my KLM flight to Amsterdam. Staring out at the 747 that would be my conveyance for the next 7+ hours, I noticed it was named "City of Nairobi". Kismet, karma, or just a wild coincidence? Who knows, but it felt oddly comforting, like the plane knew the way.
As is the case with so much of modern life, the call to board the plane was utter chaos despite the Canadian expertise at queueing. I blame all the non-Canadians for creating the mess. The clear announcements of who should board when were ignored and I, of course, grew angry. My anger momentarily subsided as I found my window seat in the "Comfort Economy" section. My hopes for extra comfort were temporarily raised as the 2 seats to my right remained empty as the rest of the section filled. It was all for naught as an elderly Dutch couple eventually arrived at my row and claimed their seats.
Fortunately, they weren't talkers and it was quickly established that our flight would be gloriously free of small talk. I think it may have been their aversion to the English language that was the biggest hint. Sadly, the gentleman took the middle seat and rested his elbow just over and onto my side of the armrest, resulting in the ever slightest yet constant poke in my ribs. Damned Dutch. Did I mention the thick, dark hairs growing from his ears? Or perhaps the fact that he required frequent trips to the rest rooms and made his wife get out of her seat each time? I'm also pretty sure there were anti-Canadian messages in his Dutch newspaper.
The flight was uneventful and 7+ hours later, we began our descent into Amsterdam while flying over off-shore wind farms, farmland, and the vast shipping infrastructure. After a long taxi and a quick de-planing, I roamed the airport in search of a lounge for my 3 hour layover.
As is the case with so much of modern life, the call to board the plane was utter chaos despite the Canadian expertise at queueing. I blame all the non-Canadians for creating the mess. The clear announcements of who should board when were ignored and I, of course, grew angry. My anger momentarily subsided as I found my window seat in the "Comfort Economy" section. My hopes for extra comfort were temporarily raised as the 2 seats to my right remained empty as the rest of the section filled. It was all for naught as an elderly Dutch couple eventually arrived at my row and claimed their seats.
Fortunately, they weren't talkers and it was quickly established that our flight would be gloriously free of small talk. I think it may have been their aversion to the English language that was the biggest hint. Sadly, the gentleman took the middle seat and rested his elbow just over and onto my side of the armrest, resulting in the ever slightest yet constant poke in my ribs. Damned Dutch. Did I mention the thick, dark hairs growing from his ears? Or perhaps the fact that he required frequent trips to the rest rooms and made his wife get out of her seat each time? I'm also pretty sure there were anti-Canadian messages in his Dutch newspaper.
The flight was uneventful and 7+ hours later, we began our descent into Amsterdam while flying over off-shore wind farms, farmland, and the vast shipping infrastructure. After a long taxi and a quick de-planing, I roamed the airport in search of a lounge for my 3 hour layover.
Back Online
So it turns out that things move a little slower here in Kenya and it takes a few days (or a couple of weeks) to get up and running again. And now that my brief technical interlude has concluded, we take you back to our regularly scheduled programming of blog posts, rants, photographs and the sharing of my adventure as and when I feel like it. Enjoy.
MJF
MJF
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Day 60 - Edmundston, NB to Burlington, ON
Days on the road: 60.
Miles today: 740.
Miles to date: 14,604.
Well, there it is. 60 days on the road and almost 15,000 miles. 23 states and 6 provinces. I crossed the Great Divide 4 times, the Mississippi River twice, and the Canada/US border 4 times. I went up, over, around, along and under mountains, hills, passes, gulches, canyons, deserts, rivers, lakes, creeks, streams, and oceans. My car was searched just once by authorities and I wasn't charged with any moving violations. I'm not saying I didn't commit any, I'm just saying "The Man" didn't catch me.
My last day on the road was an epic 740 mile run back to the GTA from Northern New Brunswick. It was the single longest day in both mileage and time terms, and it felt like it. The need to return to the GTA for 3 days of running around prior to my Kenyan departure necessitated the long run.
My good friend, LR will be happy to learn that I didn't even come close to the mileage allowance on my lease (but I've still got 3 days before I get on a plane - anybody want to drive to Northern Manitoba????).
And while the road trip is over, the adventure has just begun. I'll continue posting while in Kenya, but perhaps not with the frequency you've come to expect with this finest of web publications. So check back often and anticipate stories of a man in a white linen suit as he makes his way across the dark continent.
I shall return...
Maybe.
Miles today: 740.
Miles to date: 14,604.
Well, there it is. 60 days on the road and almost 15,000 miles. 23 states and 6 provinces. I crossed the Great Divide 4 times, the Mississippi River twice, and the Canada/US border 4 times. I went up, over, around, along and under mountains, hills, passes, gulches, canyons, deserts, rivers, lakes, creeks, streams, and oceans. My car was searched just once by authorities and I wasn't charged with any moving violations. I'm not saying I didn't commit any, I'm just saying "The Man" didn't catch me.
My last day on the road was an epic 740 mile run back to the GTA from Northern New Brunswick. It was the single longest day in both mileage and time terms, and it felt like it. The need to return to the GTA for 3 days of running around prior to my Kenyan departure necessitated the long run.
My good friend, LR will be happy to learn that I didn't even come close to the mileage allowance on my lease (but I've still got 3 days before I get on a plane - anybody want to drive to Northern Manitoba????).
And while the road trip is over, the adventure has just begun. I'll continue posting while in Kenya, but perhaps not with the frequency you've come to expect with this finest of web publications. So check back often and anticipate stories of a man in a white linen suit as he makes his way across the dark continent.
I shall return...
Maybe.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day 59 - Annapolis Royal, NS to Edmundston, NB
Day 58 - Annapolis Royal to Victoria Beach, NS & Back.
Day 57 - Saint John, NB to Annapolis Royal, NS
Days on the road: 57.
Miles today: 41.
Miles to date: 13,289.
Day 57 was a Wednesday and the big adventure for the day involved a 3+ hour ride on the St. John-Digby ferry. A brief drive around the St. John waterfront led me to accidentally discover a ship being unloaded of its shipment of wind turbine blades and pylons. Very interesting to see and I tried to capture a few shots, but couldn't quite get the right perspective to best showcase this most "of our times" deliveries.
Following the photo stop, I headed off to the ferry terminal to sit in one of many line-ups of vacation goers, RVers, commercial truckers, and various State plated vehicles to board the Princess of Acadia. I was also fortunate enough to be beside some loud Americans who seemed to think discussing the details of a family member's rather ugly divorce with their windows down and speaking loudly on their cell phone was enjoyable to all those in a blue Audi TT.
Once aboard, I lounged in the, ah, lounge and we were soon sailing away from port. Not 15 minutes into our voyage, our captain came across the PA system to announce that we would be returning to the ferry dock to offload a passenger that was experiencing a family emergency. Ugh, could my life get any worse?!?!? About 20 minutes later, we departed St. John for the second time and steamed steadily across the Bay of Fundy and into Digby, NS. A short drive later and I found myself in the sprawling metropolis of Annapolis Royal, population 440. I checked into the Bailey House B&B and ended one of my easiest travel days with dinner with friends T&S who have been building a house across the way in Victoria Beach. Nicey nice.
Miles today: 41.
Miles to date: 13,289.
Day 57 was a Wednesday and the big adventure for the day involved a 3+ hour ride on the St. John-Digby ferry. A brief drive around the St. John waterfront led me to accidentally discover a ship being unloaded of its shipment of wind turbine blades and pylons. Very interesting to see and I tried to capture a few shots, but couldn't quite get the right perspective to best showcase this most "of our times" deliveries.
Following the photo stop, I headed off to the ferry terminal to sit in one of many line-ups of vacation goers, RVers, commercial truckers, and various State plated vehicles to board the Princess of Acadia. I was also fortunate enough to be beside some loud Americans who seemed to think discussing the details of a family member's rather ugly divorce with their windows down and speaking loudly on their cell phone was enjoyable to all those in a blue Audi TT.
Once aboard, I lounged in the, ah, lounge and we were soon sailing away from port. Not 15 minutes into our voyage, our captain came across the PA system to announce that we would be returning to the ferry dock to offload a passenger that was experiencing a family emergency. Ugh, could my life get any worse?!?!? About 20 minutes later, we departed St. John for the second time and steamed steadily across the Bay of Fundy and into Digby, NS. A short drive later and I found myself in the sprawling metropolis of Annapolis Royal, population 440. I checked into the Bailey House B&B and ended one of my easiest travel days with dinner with friends T&S who have been building a house across the way in Victoria Beach. Nicey nice.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day - 56 - Quebec City, QC to Saint John, NB
Days on the road: 56.
Miles today: 446.
Miles to date: 13,248.
Fortunately, my brief stay of less than 24 hours in La Belle Province allowed me to stay focused and avoid falling under the spell of the following Quebequois temptations:
After decent coffee from a downtown cafe, I crossed the mighty St. Lawrence River and headed East along the Southern shore. Occasional glances North bound had my eyes landing on the patchwork of farmers' fields in various states of bloom, random shocks of bright yellow fields on dandelions growing wildly, the deep blue river and the dark blue outline of the mountains beyond. The day was cool yet sunny and the top was down. The miles melted away.
This must be the most hilarious town in the World:
Miles today: 446.
Miles to date: 13,248.
Fortunately, my brief stay of less than 24 hours in La Belle Province allowed me to stay focused and avoid falling under the spell of the following Quebequois temptations:
- Poutine
- Maple Fudge
- Cheese Curds
- Pepsi
- Mae West (Why isn't it called Mae Ouest???)
- Players No Filter Cigarettes
After decent coffee from a downtown cafe, I crossed the mighty St. Lawrence River and headed East along the Southern shore. Occasional glances North bound had my eyes landing on the patchwork of farmers' fields in various states of bloom, random shocks of bright yellow fields on dandelions growing wildly, the deep blue river and the dark blue outline of the mountains beyond. The day was cool yet sunny and the top was down. The miles melted away.
This must be the most hilarious town in the World:
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